


The Brackish Escape

by TheDarkFlygon



Series: Σελήνη καί Ἄρης - Peregrineshipping [5]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, I Don't Even Know, Implied/Referenced Suicide, MerMay, Rebirth, Sirens, Temporary Character Death, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:33:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24480583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkFlygon/pseuds/TheDarkFlygon
Summary: A ship captain throws herself overboard for more reasons than a mutinery.She makes a peculiar meeting.
Relationships: Kurosaki Shun/Serena
Series: Σελήνη καί Ἄρης - Peregrineshipping [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1455154
Kudos: 7





	The Brackish Escape

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this fic is either. I'll decide that later.  
> Warning ahead for potentially OOC characters. I went wild on this one because I always do whenever I write for Arc-V and, as much as I love my Peregrine kids, I also always kinda butcher their personalities lmao.  
> This fic was inspired by some of my previous classes on pirates and corsairs. The location is also kinda inspired by the Rhône Delta, for your information.  
> Idk it's like 2AM and I just wanted to post one (1) fic for MerMay after spending this entire hell of a month on a meaningless memoire and more fanfiction shenanigans.  
> Also Sixx;A.M. is my biggest musical insp lately so this fic was sponsored by This Is Gonna Hurt, in particular the song "Live Forever".

At sea, there are a countless number of dangers sailors and captains alike will face. Tempests, damages to a vessel, mutinies, starvation, dehydration, a wide array of illnesses including scurvy and yellow fever, unexpected attack from other ships. It’s the raw truth of the sailor life: there are so many things that can go wrong that you can just stock on lemons and hope for the best.

None of these problems are sirens. Merfolk don’t exist and, every single time Serena gets warned about them by her crew, she just rolls her eyes at them. _Naïve_.

They’re probably charmed by the idea of meeting something legendary, something great that just isn’t there and is so ludicrous the mere thought of it is enough of a distraction whenever the ship is stuck on sea for a while or when they need someone to move out of the way. Fantasies are nothing but a waste of time if you ask her, but her crew would heavily disagree, and there’s no point in rising a mutiny over so little.

Everyone here has a reason to seek escapism. There are those who miss their families, those who got dumped right before getting on board because they got drafted into this, those who miss the soil and are sick of the sea, those who are seasick, those who are homesick, those who thought it’d be better than that, those who need to pay rent, those who need to pay a debt back through any means possible. All of them would be very glad to fulfil their dreams through another way and most of them would embrace death if it meant getting out of their misery.

It’s a weak thing, if you think about it, but Serena can only sympathize with it, as much as she wants to deny it. There are a lot of things she’d correct if she was given an opportunity to, but alas, the past is in the past, and there’s never been any way to change such things. She usually doesn’t spend much time thinking about it. It’d bring her nothing of substance except unnecessary pain anyway.

Just like everyone on this ship, she’s got her own reasons to exchange her life for something better. Her past is less than glorious, she’d had to betray her morals before and, if you ask her, her crew hates her. She’s a stern, judgemental ship captain who won’t take anyone’s excuses, even if they’re good and should really spare them from whatever the sailor code tells her to execute. It’s not even that she’s getting observed or monitored every moment: her code of conduct simply speaks before her own humanity does. That’s what being thrown onto a boat as a little girl make her become.

Even with all of her diligent work and this strict conduct that made her so hated, they never gave her what she’s always wanted: some sort of recognition. What more could an orphan girl, seemingly chosen for random reasons by a rich, powerful man with unclear intentions want but her almost-faceless, allegedly unloving benefactor? She wouldn’t call him a father per say, but deep down, she knows she’s wanted his recognition, and then the entire social circle’s. She wants some honour, a better job and more money to do something with her life that she can finally be proud of and happy with. Being a sailor’s worst nightmare isn’t part of her dream.

There are a lot of things Serena doesn’t believe in because life showed her nobody – or even nothing, for that matter – was going to come and save her now that her one chance turned out to be a double-edged sword. There are no miracles and there is no saviour, just like all the mythos she’s heard her crew spew about creatures of the sea are nothing but folklore tails and deformed history lost to the sands of time.

She’s heard it all. The ten-armed monsters, the terrifying whales hiding in the abyss, the flesh-eating dolphins, the mermaids, the sirens. Is it really a creature if man can sing itself the irresistible melody of a mystery impossible to truly debunk due to how ludicrous the claim is and how far you’d have to go to find even a shred of a proof? It’s easier to prove that something exists rather than disprove it ever was a thing aside from someone’s story. Not that she has the wish or time to test any of what she thinks out every single time her ship goes too slowly. She’s a ship captain, not a scientist. That’s just not her job.

A job that, if she’s honest, is going very, very poorly at the moment. The crew is mutinied against her once again, pointing their swords at her, trying to hit her throat until she kneels down and gives into their demands. Nonetheless,and despite her bitter wish to remain in control, she has to admit defeat. She throws her sword, captain’s coat and tricorn at their feet, in disdain, giving them a death stare as they glare at her with a grudge. There’s no negotiating with the possessed beasts that are unsatisfied sailors. This is the end of her career, so she may as well give herself a worthy adieu.

A soothing melody plays as she throws herself overboard, jumping straight into the sea. Better die on her own terms than letting herself get won by the people she’s supposed to command.

Little do they know she can swim – one of the essential life skills she picked up in her childhood –, but it’s going to take her a little more effort than she expected. Taking that decision came on as a whim, entering her head as if it were a genius idea, and she didn’t think twice about it before jumping. She has to swim to a nearby rock before she can take off her boots and free herself from one more weight. To her luck, they were stuck waiting for their vessel to exit a delta, so the soil must be near enough from here.

Issue: this is a swamp. All deltas are, by default: that’s what she learnt before becoming a ship captain sent by the ones in charge. They’re glorified swamps, but swamps nonetheless, and they’re riddled with mosquitos and other downgrades of life all around. The sooner she’s out of there, the better.

There doesn’t seem to be anyone around, so she quickly swims to the first stretch of land possible. As soon as she gets here, remembering every second spent idling is an opportunity for an enemy to strike, Serena looks around.

Most of what she can see are salt and fresh waters mixing together in the arms of the river. The land is flat, the soil decorated with marine flora tickling at her unprotected feet. As much as she wants to run away from it, she needs to find a bit of civilization to recover new clothing from. This may as well be the second chance she was secretly hoping from, now that she can observe the ship struggling to exit the river without worrying about actually managing its life on-board.

The marine life can go on without her, she won’t mind eloping out of her assigned obligations.

A song similar to what she heard on the boat moments before putting an end to her first life catches her attention. If she follows it, she’ll surely find the persons singing it. Then, when she gets to them, she can ask on directions where to go, reunite with civilization, and start anew under a new identity. They’ll never find her again and she can go on with a calmer life where she may finally get the appreciation she’s craving so badly.

The closer she gets to the origin point of the song, the more she can understand its lyrics. At first, she was sure it was just humming, but after a while, she could identify words. It’s about freedom, reincarnation, and redemption through being given a second chance. It seems a little too convenient to be a mere coincidence, so she may just have gotten bitten by a mosquito, been developing a deadly fever, and just waltzes around the swamp hallucinating a better future for herself. Maybe it’ll all end before she can even realize she just stuck herself in a new nightmare…

However, her hopes are quickly subverted. It’s evident that she’s just getting lost in the middle of a very unfamiliar, unappealing place. She needs to pay attention to where she walks, as rocks are everywhere to hurt her, and she really can’t afford an injury, even less than usual. She has no alcohol to pour into a wound and sterilize it as much as possible, or even a bandage, here.

There’s no city, not even a field in here. The song only brings her in wetter and wetter part, and she fears getting swallowed by the moving sands and the rot-smelling mud fleeting under her feet as she continues walking for her life towards an uncertain future. And still, even when knowing the best option for her is to pick the pocketknife she always has belted against her hip and slit her throat open before she suffers from an even worse death than that, she follows the music without stopping.

Even if she wants to keep her focus sharp in case someone was to attack her, Serena can’t prevent her mind from drifting to various matters as she hears the song loop in her mind. It evokes a lot within her that, until now, she’s successfully forced out of her consciousness, as if forcing back to the surface what she tied lead weights to and let sink deep, deeper than her arm could ever reach.

It brings her back to times she thought she had long forgotten, wishes she made a cross on. The idea to live for herself, to be her own person, she threw that out of the window when it became clear she was meant to serve the interests of a wolf in sheep’s clothing. She became a daughter of evil, turning into the fearful dictatress of a black ship feared and hated by people she didn’t even know a thing about. Learning to be her own person, to acquire skills not because she needed but _wanted_ them, to read and write in her own interest and to better herself rather than merely filling tasks? Thrown overboard, like her future, like her chances of survival. She was born to die a measly death as soon as she’d rise against the machine that broke her down and stringed her back together to be nothing more than a puppet.

She remembers the few joys she’s had in life until now. The smell of fresh bread served to the higher-ups that she’d bring them on a silver plate in her childhood. The pages she’d tear away from books and recompose on her own when left alone in the libraries, imagining stories whose words she couldn’t always understand. Exploring the gardens, playing pretend with herself, having nice dreams in comfortable bedding.

It was a lure, in the end, but a good lure she’s never grown out of. If she could go back to being a blissfully unaware pseudo-civilian, going back to a life where she could dream of baking bread for the next forty years of her life, having friends, having a sense of belonging, feeling loved and appreciated. All that? She’ll never know it. She’s never known it. Maybe she’s fantasized its taste all along and it’s not as tooth-rotting sweet as she’s made it out to be.

The song has grown so loud that she’s now undeniably near its source. There’s no human being to be seen here, not even a hunting hut: the place has very little animals, it’d seem, and it doesn’t seem worth it to be fishing nor shooting birds here. It’s weird, for a delta, according to what she’s read before, but what does she know? She’s ignorant of the outside world, of anything that isn’t serving as a ship captain.

Nonetheless, she’s finally facing the singer of this enticing hymn to freedom, and the last certainties Serena could have possibly had until this point are shattered by the creature in front of her: a man whose legs got replaced with a dark green fishtail, matching his hair. There are scales all over his body, in irregular places, mostly on his abdomen and forearms. In his hands is a harp made out of bones, which his fingers string melodies on without him even looking at it anymore.

This is where it all ends for her, right? Heh, all things considering, she’s had a good run. That’s not too bad of a send-off for a thrown-overboard, fugitive sailor of her calibre.

“Who are you?” She asks nonetheless, the sea wind suddenly rising and blowing through both of their hair.

When he turns to her, she sees his eyes are too human, and that’s despite the gills she can see on his neck and the feeling of dread she feels now that the song has stopped. He puts his bone harp away.

“I can ask you the same,” is all he replies, and she feels her patience dwindling a little.

“That doesn’t matter. I’m nobody. I just want to know where the nearby city is.”

“There’s no city here. Humans like you come here to die. They get attracted by our chants, then get swallowed by sand, or drown, or stab themselves in the chest when they realize they’re lost and too far gone.”

He isn’t wrong. There is nothing here but plants, sand, mud, brackish water and this one creature sitting on a rock, playing songs that bring people to their death. Does he even know he’s the reason why she’s here? Why so many people died before?

“You’re the one bringing people here, aren’t you? Do you eat human flesh and nourish from their despair or something?” She read that in a book, once, maybe twice. Probably more fake folklore to scare kids into obedience.

“I told you,”, he snaps at her. “They all die before they can reach us and, when they do, they just prefer dying than conversing with us. You’re the first human I see that hasn’t gotten a knife out yet.”

“You could kill me and it wouldn’t make a difference, believe me. You’re a siren, ain’t you?”

“I don’t know what a siren is. If that’s what your kin calls us, then I guess so.”

Well, she’s never thought of it that way, but it makes sense. Wait, is she reasoning with a _siren_?

“I don’t like humans like you,” he tells her in a flat, honest voice like she’s never heard one before. “You’re all about making the world yours with no regards to anything else, inventing legends to scare your own kin about species you know nothing about. This isn’t your soil; this is our sanctuary.”

Heh, she may be starting to think she likes that half-fish more than actual humans. At least, he won’t backstab her like so many others have before.

“You are the captain on that ship that just passed by the river, aren’t you?”

“ _Were_.”

She can almost see amusement in the grin he’s repressing.

“Oh, so you’re one of _those_ lost souls who got attracted here by our chants. You really must be desperate.”

“Yeah, and? My life makes no sense, what are you gonna do about that? Make me cry? I’d like to see you try.”

“That’d be wasting my time.”

She’s got nothing to reply, but she also doesn’t intend on losing that verbal argument. He’s piqued her interest, shown himself to be better than so many people she’s seen and dealt with until this point. Since time is no longer against her, she may as well use that opportunity.

“Legend says your chants attract mortal humans by alluding to their deepest desires. Is that true?”

“Maybe. Depends on what you heard,” he replies while picking back up his harp, making its strings vibrate a little. She immediately pictures giving herself a new, idealistic life.

“Nothing grandiose. Just reminded me of how better off I’d have been if I weren’t doing what I was doing until today. Peace of mind, happiness, companionship, the smell of fresh bread. I’m tired of bossing people around and pretending like that’s been fine with me.”

“And why are you venting this to a terrifying creature of the sea?”

“You, terrifying? My crew mutinied against me earlier today and I’ve almost lost an eye a couple time. Unless you start biting into my flesh, I won’t be scared.”

He glares at her, unimpressed. Probably saw worst shit during his run on Earth as an immortal.

“In fact, you could kill me and I’d be grateful. That’s how much I don’t care,” she adds.

“You really don’t fear death?”

“May have craved it a couple times up until now.”

“Nobody that will miss you?”

“Nah. I sure won’t miss them and they sure will find a replacement for me. I’m not naïve about human nature.”

“You’re more interesting than I thought,” he forces himself to admit, judging by the frown on his face. “What are you going to do, now?”

“I don’t know. I’ve got nowhere to go, nowhere to do. May put an end to all of this if I don’t find it by the time I start dying from dehydration.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

Another bout of silence where they just stare at each other. His scowl softens.

“I hate to admit it, but you remind me of myself.”

“Wait, what?”

Serena’s eyes blink rapidly while, unimpressed, the siren continues staring at her, unamused.

“I got told I was human before. Don’t know if that’s true, don’t know if that’s bullshit. I don’t really care either way. Joined our pack when I almost died by drowning, apparently. That’s all they told me.”

“They?”

“The pack. They’re the ones who attracted me, then transformed me into a siren once I was dead. You’re the sort of people they look for.”

“Can’t say I expected that.”

“You tell me.”

The more they stare at each other without exchanging words, the more comfortable she feels despite her damp clothes sticking against her shivering skin, her stomach growling for food.

“Your tales never taught that, no?”

“Touché.”

“What about testing it out?” He tells her, a smirk on his face.

“Won’t cost me anything to try, now.”

She watches him suddenly jump into the brackish waters, disappearing under the muddy surface. Without thinking twice about it, and despite the rational part of her brain rattling against her skull, she abandons the rest of her captain outfit and follows suit, suddenly uncaring for the smell of the water, its salty taste and the algae tickling her skin.

Despite how much it sting to keep her eyes open underwater, she has no choice if she wants to follow that one creature. Yes, it’s a terrible idea, and she’ll probably die from pneumonia if she doesn’t die from the lack of oxygen; but what is there to do left for her? She’s got no hope of ever regaining civilization unless it’s behind bars, on a guillotine, or in misery, forever running from an unjust law. Humanity be damned.

His fishtail makes it easy for her to follow him, even if she feels like her lungs have reached their limit. Her body’s reflexes act before her mind can tell them to shut up, that they still have air in (she read that somewhere too, but doesn’t remember when or where, and she doesn’t care about that anymore), but they won’t obey, and the water entering her windpipes against her will burn and burn as it goes down while she tries keeping up with his superhuman swimming abilities.

Eventually, her air runs out. She knows it from the bubbles that don’t exit her mouth anymore and the soothing feeling of sweet, sweet air deprivation. It’s a softer demise than she expected, softly bringing her to the other side, without pain. Terrible decision, sure, but hey… Maybe it could be worse.

At least, nobody will have the satisfaction of taking her life away from her but herself.

…

And yet, she wakes up.

It’s not exactly the same as before. Her legs have disappeared, replaced with a tail going from her pelvis from where her feet should’ve been. Purple scales ornate her arms as far as she can see. Most strangely of it all, she can breathe underwater with no issue, far from the burning sensation that seems more and more foreign.

Come to think of it, she can’t remember much of what happened until now, only some form of despair over what happened to her in what feels like a previous iteration of her existence, faraway pains and vague thoughts that don’t sound like hers. There’s only two things she’s now sure of: her nature and her name.

Sitting on a rock, towering over the spot of water where she’s woken up, she can see a somewhat familiar face: a green-haired, emerald-scaled comrade giving her a smirk, playing on a harp made of bone.

“Thought you’d never make it. Turns out I was wrong,” he says, almost deadpanning.

“You underestimated me, then,” she replies with a chuckle and a smirk of her own.

He gives her a hand, which she grabs so he can pull her out of the water. They sit next to each other, him on the rock, her on the brackish sand.

“Name’s Shun.”

“And I’m Serena. Nice to meet you.”


End file.
